


Interior Decorating

by DictionaryWrites



Series: Grantaire Shipping Week 2013 (Nov 11-17) [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Paint Kink, Painting, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2018-01-01 01:53:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Monday's first fic of seven for Grantaire Shipping Week! Feuilly/Grantaire - sex and bad puns ahoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interior Decorating

Grantaire's new apartment was fantastic. He was happy with the new apartment, and was content to settle in. For the time being, his furniture was piled haphazardly in his living room while he painted the other rooms. There were two bedrooms in the apartment, but one had long, wide windows, and Grantaire had quickly turned it into a comfortable studio to work in. He was currently working on painting the bedroom, the kitchen having been completed. Once he'd painted it, he would move his bedroom furniture in, and he'd be able to work more comfortably in the living room.

Grantaire was content to work on his own. It wasn't overly artistic – Grantaire had gone for fairly simple, light colours, the colour in the bedroom a soft blue. He had a stencil and some black paint in order to complete a pretty border at about chest height, but other than that, he was being unadventurous.

Grantaire loved to paint, but paintings on the walls would no doubt be distracting, and he didn't want too much commentary from anyone he invited into his home. “Hallo?”

“In the bedroom, Feuilly!” Grantaire called back. Feuilly stepped into the room, dropping the keys Grantaire had given him to get in into his own pocket.

“Ah, painting are we?” Feuilly picked up a paintbrush with no further comment, and joined Grantaire beside him, always eager to help. He wore a worn-looking old t-shirt, his jeans scuffed and already marred with paint from a previous experience. Grantaire wore only a pair of pyjama bottoms, and Feuilly tutted a him. “You'll get all covered in paint.” The carpenter teased.

“I like getting covered in paint. It's my trade.” Grantaire returned easily, smiling a little as he continued to work.

“So it is.” Feuilly flicked paint at him, so that the soft azure spattered across Grantaire's chest, staining the lines of his ribs and his sternum, and marking his nipples in blue.

“That's a waste of paint.” Grantaire said, attempting a stern tone, but Feuilly could already see the younger man' fingers were twitching on his own brush to retaliate.

“I'll buy you more.” Feuilly promised, leaning and dipping his hand in the paint.

“Feuil-” Grantaire yelled when Feuilly left a handprint on his chest, before pulling Grantaire close to cup his ass and leave paint on the bottoms. “You're an idiot.” He muttered, but then he pulled Feuilly down by his hair to press a kiss to his lips.

“An idiot, huh?”

“A sexy one.” Feuilly let his hand move up on Grantaire's back, smearing blue paint across it.

“Is that so?”

“Come fuck me.” Grantaire demanded, and Feuilly grinned.

“On what? You've no bed here.”

“On the floor.”

“The  _floor_? You'll get burns from the carpet."

“More's the better.” Grantaire purred, and Feuilly let the other go so Grantaire could drop onto the ground, dropping to his knees and his forearms, and then Feuilly was behind him, hands on Grantaire's hips (more of the blue stained Grantaire's skin but the artist didn't complain), and he leaned, nipping and biting at the base of Grantaire's spine before moving upwards, up his back and around his shoulders.

“I need lube.” Feuilly murmured once he'd unbuttoned his trousers and pulled Grantaire's bottoms down, and Grantaire stretched out, arching his back.

“You keep some in your wallet: I know you do.” Feuilly laughed, and he used his clean hand to fuck lube-slicked fingers against Grantaire's ass, pressing into him and making Grantaire grunt. Feuilly was fucking forwards soon enough, letting out choked little sounds as he moulded his body against the brunet's.

Grantaire let out drawn out hums as he fucked his hips back, sounding contented, pleased, by the attention he was receiving. “Harder.” Feuilly fucked forwards faster, grasping Grantaire's shoulder and pulling him back a little, and Grantaire let out a high, sharp sound. “Fuck.”

“That's right.” Feuilly bit down at the meat of Grantaire's shoulder, making Grantaire let out a high whimper. “You fucking whore.” Feuilly murmured, and Grantaire stiffened, his hips bucking into air, which offered no stimulation.

“Touch my cock, Feuilly, fuck, fuck, come on-”

“ _No_.” Feuilly fucked into him faster, his hips moving sharply, quickly, until Grantaire was letting out mewl after mewl of sound, shivering a little.

“God, Feuilly, come on-” Grantaire moved to put one of his own hands on his cock, but Feuilly grabbed him by the hips, sitting back with Grantaire in his lap, grasping the other's hands and keeping them still.

“Fuck yourself.”

“God, I hate you.” Feuilly laughed at Grantaire's growl, but the artist began to drop himself down all the same, head tilting back.

“Hey.” Feuilly whispered. “Hey, Grantaire.”

“ _What_?” Grantaire asked in a choked voice, clenching around him with more than a little desperation.

“I said I'd help you with your interior decoration.” Feuilly sped himself up, and within seconds of the stupid,  _ridiculous_  joke, he came.

“I can't believe I degrade myself by fucking you.” Grantaire groaned, but then Feuilly's hand was on his cock, making Grantaire wriggle and shift and let out loud moans. Grantaire's orgasm was drawn out by Feuilly's attentions, but when Feuilly's hand finally relaxed, Grantaire elbowed him playfully in the chest. “I am gagging you next time.”

“Hot.” Feuilly commented, and Grantaire grinned at him, throwing himself forwards and sprawling on the floor.

“You're an asshole.”

“Won't deny it.” Feuilly said good-naturedly, leaning forwards and laying his chin on Grantaire's stomach, his arms curling around the other's thighs. “You needed a break anyway.” Grantaire ruffled Feuilly's curly hair out of some peevish need to mess it up.

“I did.” He admitted, smile bright and making something fly in Feuilly's heart.


End file.
